


The Lies That Lead Us To Hell

by SennaLaureen



Series: Taming A Stray [3]
Category: Thronebreaker: The Witcher Tales, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Universe Alteration, spoilers for Thronebreaker: The Witcher Tales
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 05:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17037551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SennaLaureen/pseuds/SennaLaureen
Summary: Meve and her force stood upon the Yaruga's bank. To find and punish the traitor Count Caldwell, who was just recently appointed the new regent of these god-forsaken lands, Meve would have to cross the river... Yet the sole bridge nearby was in Nilfgaard's hands - the bridge to fort Red Lobinden.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Since Thronebreaker is a story-telling game, I did borrow some passages from the game itself - dialogues and descriptions. These passages do NOT belong to me, but to the incredible game production team of CD Projekt Red! Same goes for the amazing story and characters.  
> Enjoy!

After weeks of Mahakam's freezing temperatures, Meve's men were happy to have descended into another realm - Angren. Yet the good mood didn't last long at all - only until the first of them fell prey to a glustyworp, when he made a little too much noise. Bones cracking, the metal of the armour bent and crushed, and moments later the disgusting sounds of a monster devouring a man alive, the latter screaming in agony only for a mere fraction of a second, though too long for those, who heard them.

"What... Bloody hell, what was that!?" Horrified and shocked, Meve gripped the reins of her horse that walked behind her, pressing herself to the animal's shoulder.

"Rather not know, personally," Gascon was grimly watching the waters around them, while Reynard immediately reacted in the only way he knew: by giving orders.

"Hold your positions! Arms at th' ready!"

But there was not much any of them could do - the monster was gone for now, satisfied with one man, but surely it would return – and with it many more.

Wading knee-deep in frothing waters, surrounded by legions of mosquitoes, and having witnessed one of the inhabitants of the swamp that was Angren, the soldiers soon enough wished themselves back in Mahakam.

 ~~~

Soon Meve and her force stood upon the Yaruga's bank. To find and punish the traitor Count Caldwell, who was just recently appointed the new regent of these god-forsaken lands, Meve would have to cross the river... Yet the sole bridge nearby was in Nilfgaard's hands - the bridge to fort Red Lobinden.

Watching the stronghold from afar, Meve noticed the Nilfgaardian sentries atop the fortified palisade. In full gear, alert in stance - she knew that Red Lobinden would not fall by surprise, but only by a siege, and a siege would slow her advance significantly.

"Blast..." she cursed, yet there was naught she could do - she wished nothing more in this world than to put her hands around Caldwell's treacherous neck and squeeze the life out of him, and the only way to do so was to take Red Lobinden any way possible.

Reynard dropped his visor with a tap, ready to attack. "On your command, Your Majesty."

Meve took a deep breath, and turned to her advisors.

"Very well... We mustn't delay. Reynard - our plan of attack. Armoured infantry to lead and take the first salvo upon their breast, scaling ladders to follow. Afterwards..."

"Masterful! Truly masterful!" Gascon interrupted her, "Yet despite th' mastery, fit to be improved."

Meve turned to face him - the clear mockery in his voice begged her to bite back and remind him who he is speaking to, but she held it back just yet, seeing the spark in his eyes and the confident grin.

"How, namely?" her tone was challenging, daring him to propose a better plan.

"Hold back your force. Lie in waitin'. I'll take... ten good men of mine and open th' gates for you. Wide."

Their eyes met, and Meve knew - on the level of understanding they secretly reached - that Gascon would do exactly that.

"And how do you aim to achieve this?" Reynard's sudden animosity should have made Meve suspicious, given how well the two of them got along recently, but she let that thought pass, concentrating on the task at hand. "Knock and claim to be a trinket peddler, I suppose? Or perhaps one of Lebioda's devout desciples?"

Reynard had a point - how was Gascon hoping to bring them such an easy victory? A sudden chilling image of Gascon and his men being shot on sight at the gates of Red Lobinden made Meve shiver with dread. The man already proved to be reckless on several occasions - hanging from the balcony of the Mount Carbon just to mess with her, for instance! -, and the last thing she wanted was for him to...

"Must you know every last detail? Where's the fun in that, sir?" Gascon dared to wink at Reynard.

"There is none in warfare! Never! For war is no farce!" Reynard was downright seething now, and turned to Meve. "Your Majesty, he stands no chance, not th' slightest!"

Siege or no siege - for the moment Meve wanted to be perfectly certain that Gascon would return in one piece. She looked back at him, and he met her gaze and held it. His entire stance brimmed with confidence, and his eyes promised her to succeed... and return.

Meve sighed, weighing the options – or the lack thereof -, and nodded. “You have my approval, Gascon, let’s see what you can do.”

_Just don’t die, please._

Gascon, as if reading her mind, smiled at her and turned around to look for his men. He assembled a small force and set off, straight for the stronghold gate. Meve’s eyes were glued to the figure leading the men.

“Lambs to th’s laughter...” Reynard obviously did not approve of Meve’s decision. “Your Majesty, it’s not too late. We can always...”

“Shhh, look!”

Her knuckles gripping her sword tight, Meve watched intently, as Gascon lifted his arm in a gesture of peace and merrily bantered with the guards. Then the gates jerked into motion, and Meve let out a relieved sigh he didn’t know she was holding.

Reynard gasped in surprise. “But… how?!”

“No matter! The gate stands open, we must attack!” Gascon’s plan succeeded, but he was still in danger. As soon as the Blackclads realized they were fooled… Meve raced off toward the fortress, without even glancing back. She knew well her soldiers would follow.

Upon seeing Meve and her army storming across the bridge, the guards at the winch realized their mistake and tried to close the gate, but Gascon’s men quickly prevented it, thrusting their knives between gaps in the heavy plate. As soon as the Lyrians passed the open gates, they raised their fists in triumph and cheered, but Meve knew that their foes simply lost their tactical advantage, not the battle. Confronted by the disciplined Nilfgaardian army right behind the gate, she drew her sword and frantically searched for the familiar hat among the black armoured men, yet to no avail.

As soon as her weapon made the first contact with the neck of a Blackclad, and the well-known rush of the battle swept over the two armies, Meve heard Gascon’s voice from afar: “Awww-oooo!!! Hahaha! Th’ Strays have come to play!”

Caught in the all-too-familiar blood rage, Meve fought her way through the enemies, trying to reach the keep, though someone beat her to that: Gascon artfully danced around the heavy blows of the swords and spears, finding the weaknesses in every armour, leaving a path of corpses behind. Once at the keep, he singlehandedly landed a deathly attack on the commander. Suddenly leaderless, the Nilfgaardians threw away their weapons.

“One Red Lobinden for you, m’lady. Compliments on the house!” Meve couldn’t hide a relieved smile at the sight of Gascon performing a perfect mockery of a bow in her direction, the corpse of the commander at his feet.

 ~~~

 While Reynard supervised the losses of the Lyrian army and their prisoners, Meve stood on top of the palisade’s rampart and gazed out over the marshlands across the Yaruga that stretched between her and Count Caldwell. He was somewhere out there, in the Tuzla Castle according to Reynard’s scouts, but after today’s battle, Meve was one step closer to giving that traitor that he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry about this horrible fic title! While I worked on the fic, I used the working title "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier..." in reference to the movie "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy", but it was too silly, so once I was ready to upload the two chapters, I literally sat there for half an hour coming up with a serious title... and failed spectacularly. I'm sorry. I'll see myself out now :(


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as the commander of Red Lobinden – the only person who knew about his initial plan to betray Meve - breathed his last breath, choking on his own blood, Gascon felt a heavy weight fall off his mind. It was finally over – now no living person knew about his betrayal, and Meve would never get to hear of it.

Gascon never harboured any illusions about his relationship with Meve – she was a Queen, and will resume her rightful place on the throne of Lyria and Rivia sooner rather than later. A brigant like him, however, had no place in her life, not now and not in the future. But he wouldn’t be Gascon, the Duke of Dogs, if this bitter truth was going to stop him from enjoying her presence as long as Meve accepted it, as long as their journey wasn’t over yet. And once it was over… well, Gascon always lived in here and now, but he dreaded the moment he wouldn’t be able to just walk up to Meve and hear her voice, look in her beautiful blue eyes, relish in the strength she radiated. Just like how he walked up to her watching over the terrain they were about to cross next on their way to Castle Tuzla.

“My, my, Gascon. Color me surprised,” as soon as Meve noticed him, she smiled warmly, and his heart almost burst with joy.

“Pleasantly so, I trust?”

Meve chuckled. “Don’t fish for compliments. It doesn’t suit you. Besides, you know you deserve both medal and title.”

Medal and title… well, maybe the future wasn’t so hopeless, after all. “I shall hold you to it, my queen,” Gascon sat down on the parapet facing Meve. Finally unburdened by his secret, he was enjoying himself to the fullest. His heart was as light as a feather, and he wished to be able to stop the time, to hold this one moment of happiness and relish in it forever.

“But I must know… how. What ruse persuaded the Nilfgaardians to open the gate?”

Damn, he ought to come up with something believable about that. “Come, come – my delightful charm’s no ruse!”

“Ah, I see. Not one to share secrets?” Meve smiled.

Movement behind her drew Gascon’s attention: Reynard walked up to them. One glance at the man’s _furious_ face, and Gascon’s heart stopped beating.

In this moment he knew it was over.

“Unremarkable, as I see it,” Reynard’s voice was laced with poison, his fierce gaze pinned Gascon in place. Meve turned to her general and her expression became solemn. “I’d hold my tongue too were my conscience thus burdened.”

 _Nonononono, please don’t do this! If you know that I planned to do, then you know that I didn’t_ _go through with_ _it, please_ _Reynard_ _don’t_ _don’t DON’T!_

Maintaining a straight face, Gascon raised to his feet and smiled charmingly at Reynard, despite the storm raging inside.

“I’ve done nowt to hide my shameful past, friend. I was a brigand, indeed, yet-”

“Do not dare take me for a fool. You know of what I speak.”

“Yet I don’t. Reynard, what is this? What the devils is with you?” Meve looked between the two of them, alarmed.

“Your Grace, in Mahakam, th’ Nilfgaardian letter we managed to intercept: ‘Consider your offer accepted. Direct Meve and her force to the agreed site. We await their arrival. Your reward shall be as agreed.’” At the mention of this letter Meve’s face fell. Gascon knew the letter and the recipient thereof occupied her mind ever since Reynard got his hands on it. He prayed to all the gods that she’d never find out who this letter meant to reach...

“’Twas Gascon who told us Caldwell had received Angren to rule. ‘Twas Gascon who suggested we ride for Lobinden.” With each word Meve’s expression darkened. “Here, th’ Blackclads willingly opened th’ gate – for they expected him to deliver a prisoner – you.”

“I don’t…” Meve’s voice gave out for a second. “I don’t believe this. No, it cannot be!” She turned around, her eyes begged Gascon to argue, to deliver a plausible explanation, anything…!

“Deny it, Gascon. Go on! Tell me I’m wrong,” Reynard seethed.

Looking at Meve, who watched him intently, her expression a mix of hope and disbelief, Gascon decided he wouldn’t lie, not anymore, not to her. It was time to be honest. So he remained silent.

Gascon could pinpoint the exact moment Meve realized all of this was true – her face contorted with badly concealed pain, and she made a step back, as if afraid Gascon would attack her. It would have hurt less if she stabbed him. But the true agony was knowing that he deserved it.

Not able to hold her gaze any longer, he averted his eyes.

“D’you require any more proof, Your Grace?” Reynard turned to Meve, but she didn’t react. “What’s they promise you? Amnesty? Coin in heaps?”

Gascon had to gather all his resolve to look at Meve again and was met with a fury he had yet to see on her face.

No more lies. He sighed deeply.

“Both. I knew Nilfgaard wouldn’t parley with me as a matter of course. To be treated seriously, I needed somethin’ they valued. A stroke of luck it was, th’ chance to free you from Caldwell’s grip. ‘Twas in Aedirn that we first spoke. Then came to an understandin’ after Rosberg’s fall.” He dared to make a small step forward, but was instantly met with a defensive stance. It _hurt_. “Meve… I sought to sell you out, I did, and aimed to gain by it. Yet in Aedirn you earned my respect. In Mahakam, my admiration.” With his eyes he begged her to understand, begged her to remember the beautiful night, when they danced under the stars. Begged her to believe him. “I swore then I wouldn’t follow th’ terms of the accord I’d made. Instead, I’d let you into th’ fort,” Gascon gestured around, “and make damn sure th’ commandant couldn’t reveal th’ truth. Alas, seems I underestimated Reynard.”

Meve remained silent, her face – a frozen mask of fury, concealing her emotions.

_Please, say something, anything!_

“Flattery will get you nowt. You, sir, are a traitor,” Reynard stepped forward.

In this moment Gascon’s patience snapped, and he turned to the other man, livid.

“Oh, please, friend. You appear to me a pot that calls th’ kettle black.”

Reynard’s face immediately fell, and Gascon gloated in this moment.

Slowly, Meve turned to face the other man. “Reynard? What does he mean?”

Alarmed, the general raised his arms. “I’ve no notion, Your Grace, not th’ slightest...”

 _You will suffer just as much as me, my friend_. “Truly? Huh. An’ I had you pegged for a man of ‘onor. Come now, Reynard. Who sent secret missives to Villem? Go on, you really should tell your queen.”

“What? Reynard?” But the general couldn’t bring out a word.

Gascon seized his chance. “His Highness’ guest chambers in Mahakam – one of my lads snuck in. Found a letter bearin’ th’ signature of one Reynard Odo.” He thought he’d gloat over Reynard getting the dose of his own medicine, but Meve’s pained and vulnerable expression made Gascon regret his decision.

“Reynard… I beg you. Say it’s not so,” Meve’s voice was small, pleading, and Gascon wanted to break something. “Tell me it’s a filthy lie.”

“I… I… Your Grace, I’d hoped His Highness and you would reconcile… To see son stand against mother rent my heart. I… I… wished to help!”

“Behind my back.” Reynard winced at the ice in Meve’s voice.

“Your Majesty, I sought merely to push th’ youth to see reason! To open his eyes!”

“So say you now… Yet I can’t know what was in the letters you secretly sent someone who stabbed me in the back and put me in prison! I can’t know what pacts you made. And, alas, I can no longer take you at your word.”

Horrified and shocked, Reynard could only stand there and accept the accusations.

A moment of silence stretched for too long, as Meve regarded her closest friend with an unreadable expression, before Gascon broke the silence. “I’m not alone in havin’ deceived. Yet I am in repairin’ my wrong.”

_Meve, please….!_

She didn’t even turn to face him. Instead she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, her shoulders slumped wearily. Meve looked like she aged ten summers since this conversation started. Without looking either of the men in the eye, she sighed, her voice muted and void of any emotion. “Traitors you are, both. Yet I cannot do without your aid. Now more than ever. ‘Tis the one reason I shall look past all this.”

Gascon released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, relief flooding his entire body. Reynard’s face lightened up as well. “Your Grace...”

But Meve already turned her back on them and was on her way to the camp.


End file.
